The test may be how good you are
in wind when wind blows through you—
saying I do to I do the white-crowned
sparrow saws the last stand of light
as animal paths on the opposite mountain
ghost into generational tracings.
Out of the breeze’s sway a fly knocks
against a screen in its own summation
of attempt.
Advertisement
Like this:
6 bloggers like this post.
I like these last few poems. It seems you have been more productive than me this summer in terms of poetry. Is the last poem a reference to fishing?
I just got back from a week-long jaunt around Montana. We’ll see if it inspires anything poetic.
A word is dead
When it is said,
some say
I say it just
Begins to live
That day
/ By E. D. /
Hello stranger,
I was wondering if you have time to grab a cup of coffee before school starts up again. My schedule is wide open this week (and most of next week too).
Read
I don’t think tomorrow will work, so maybe next Friday
Friday, 3:30 at Peet’s sounds good to me. I’ll see you there.